


an indirect compliment

by JadeClover



Series: star-hewn colossi [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 15:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeClover/pseuds/JadeClover
Summary: In a rare, casual moment, the Emperor asks Haggar a question.





	an indirect compliment

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something more casual and a little silly, so this is the result. It's actually based on a thought exercise I was doing to try and get a better understanding of Haggar's character. I was trying to figure out for myself what her answer to Zarkon's question would be, and the next thing i knew i had a word processing document open and Zarkon was being his bored and obnoxious—I mean, thoughtful self and asking her. So here's a look at a somewhat lighter side of everyone's (or my, at least) favorite evil space rulers.

Once, several vargas ago, there was reason for her to be in the Emperor's rooms, but no longer. They had retired to his quarters to discuss business, the topics that either could not wait until morning or had waited so long they fast approached irrelevancy, but now all such matters have been laid to rest. With nothing left to speak of, they long ago slipped into silence—and yet, for some reason or another, she still has not left.  
  
_Why?_  
  
Were he to ask her—( _which he will not—she trusts in this_ )—she would no doubt claim practicality, that the work with which she has occupied herself can be just as easily accomplished from here. And that _is_ the truth. But if there is another reason? That for once, the quiet and the casual and the comfortable appeals to her? Then she will not dwell on it. ( _That would, in fact, defeat the purpose._ )  
  
It is worth noting that her lord remains as well, despite it having been nearly a full varga since last they spoke. He is reclined on the couch opposite—a rare moment of repose—stretched on his back and, by all appearances, in deep contemplation of the ceiling ( _though a rather more generous assumption would have him lost in thoughts of strategy and conquest_ ).  
  
She is curled at the end of her own couch ( _her shoes removed and feet tucked beneath her, as has, somehow, become the usual_ ). A solid holo-glass screen rests in her lap; through it, she accesses the server, sorting her reports into categories of _"Urgent,"_ _"Not Urgent,"_ or the ever-ignominious _"To Be Reviewed at Her Leisure."_  
  
And if the silence is no longer just comfortable, but pleasant? She still will not say it.  
  
But she _will_ say that it is just like her lord to break it.  
  
From across the room, he speaks, as though they had not just spent the past varga enveiled in quiet. "Were you to describe your five best qualities," he asks, "what would they be?"  
  
There is no reason to even lift her gaze. "If you are looking for something to do, sire, I have just forwarded you the assessment of the fleet's energy consumption."  
  
It is not, she knows, what one says to one's emperor. But she doubts he will have her thrown in a cell for it.  
  
" _Or,_ " her lord says ( _lightly, almost—this is not true ire, not anything close_ ), "you could answer my question."  
  
Quite clearly, this is boredom at play. When idle ( _as the long nights often leave him_ ), his contemplation may take a turn for the _needless_ and the _absurd_. But her hand nevertheless stills over the screen, her thoughts slowly winding to a halt. She does raise her head, now, and casts him a glance from beneath the shadow of her hood. He remains as before, reclined on the couch, his fingers steepled before him; he does not look her way.  
  
Were she to dismiss this as the mindless diversion it is, she would suffer no consequences. She is well aware of this.  
  
But...  
  
The Emperor _does_ like to be indulged.  
  
Her gaze drops back to the screen in her lap, though she no longer sees the words. "Why do you wish to know?"  
  
"I am _curious_."  
  
_Curious._ The way he says it, it is as though the whims of his mind are reason enough for the universe to bow.  
  
( _Though—he likely_ does _think that._ )  
  
She purses her lips.  
  
This is not an oft-tread trail of thought, this weighing of qualities, the picking-apart thereof. It is not that she thinks herself lacking—( _as she does not_ )—merely that she finds no reason to set her better traits in a row and study them.  
  
But if she is to follow through with this...  
  
"I suppose I value my work," she says at last, drawing out the sentence in the dregs of their silence. Though work in itself is not a trait, however much it may occupy her. "What I do, how well I do it. Skill, efficiency, alacrity."  
  
A pause. She shifts now, tilting the screen to lean against her chest. This subject may be odd, but it is not impossible, and if she truly considers it, there is more she can say.  
  
"My tenacity, my indomitability. My ability to create _something_ out of _nothing_." That one is always useful, especially when the worthless subordinates she cycles through delight in giving her _nothing_ in droves.  
  
And there is something else to consider, there: "My talent for magic. No"—that is not quite right—"not just talent. How I have _refined_ it. My innovation." She has changed the way magic itself is defined, rewritten its every law. The strides she has made could not have been conceived of millennia before—they were but mere fantasies.  
  
And now an important one—it seems almost wrong that she had not thought it sooner, though perhaps that is the nature of it. Voice lower, surer with the weight of it: "My loyalty." To her lord and their empire—but that goes without saying.  
  
And after that, what more can be said? Little else, it seems—her thoughts have dwindled to mere wisps of ideas, almost not worth speaking aloud, but she gives them voice regardless. "My insight. My intellect. My capacity for acquiring knowledge, I suppose. My adaptability." Because she is _very_ good at adapting.  
  
...Though, she now realizes, that was perhaps more than five things.  
  
She lifts her gaze again. Her lord is watching her, his eyes bright; the look in them is almost intense, yet still strangely muted in some way. ( _She does not understand it._ )  
  
" _Why,_ of all things, would you wonder about _this_?" Her tone is not accusatory, not the judgment it could have been, merely curiosity of her own, softened at the edges by faint, honest confusion.  
  
He looks away then, turns his gaze to the viewport and the stars beyond. But when he replies, it is quiet, measured, and there is a tilt to his head and a curl in his voice that speaks of satisfaction.  
  
"No reason in particular."

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr [here](http://jade-clover.tumblr.com/) if you wanna come say hi <3


End file.
